


The Water

by crazyforthisloki



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyforthisloki/pseuds/crazyforthisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin can’t explain the reasons behind it. After a long time, he stopped trying to understand why it happened. Every now and then, Destiny (with capital d) gives him a present with Arthur appearing at the shores of Avalon on the anniversary of his passing. It’s a short reunion that can only last for a day. Merlin treats it as a reward yet of course, not all reunions go without trouble and him and Arthur still have lots of issues to discuss.<br/>Or the time Merlin and Arthur got to explore and say everything left unsaid and unspoken in The Diamond of the Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Water

**Author's Note:**

> The titles and part were inspired by The River by Johnny Flynn and Laura Marling.  
> At first this fic was very dark, so dark I could not even finish it and then I decided to turn around and have something lighter and with a happy cheesy ending.

**Part one: With my dying.**

When he returns the first time, Merlin thinks he has gone mad. He touches and glares and feels every inch and convinces himself it is real. Arthur is tangible at its finest --his armour, his cloak still of the same vivid red yet it hasn't rusted or ruined. They are not even wet from the sweet waters. Then, Arthur speaks and his voice isn't even hoarse --so Merlin learns it has not happened more than brief seconds for the king, yet he has waited for thirty years till that day.

So it comes upon him to share all the news, all the developments. How the kingdom he doesn't remember leaving behind has endured without him. Merlin tells him about the daughter that rules for her mother and her father who still stands beside her with the poise of a proper knight. He pretends he doesn't see the pain in his expression or how cloudy and misty the blue eyes turn when he hears of the old physician’s memorial. Merlin thinks how there is no point for him to gaze into the other’s pain. He is well adjusted to his own by now.

Then they talk and share the memories that had collapsed in their last everlasting minutes. Arthur's sole final remembrance is Merlin’s forehead pressed against his. In turn, he doesn't share how he still sees the boat moving away from him every night in his dreams.

The king still has his crooked smile but he only uses it when they both try so hard to make the other smile with emptiness. He sees the confusion in the king’s mind. The realm he fought so hard to build, the people for whom he had given his life has moved on without him. There is that sentient sensation he is the one left behind. Merlin doesn't speak on how he has left all behind too. How he did not return; how he doesn't have a room in the castle or a bed waiting for him anymore. How he has been too much of a coward to try and roam those halls without the other on the nearest corner again.

He leaves Arthur sinking his feet in the mud to think about what he has lost throughout those three decades of deep sleep while the warlock remembers the rest. The chaos at the end of the battle -when he was too late to reach on time- and the joy when the ban was lifted -even though he never returned to show his powers at court. He does not hurry him because there will be more time for them to share those stories now.

They have more time than their last. More than ever, and Merlin is free to age with the other at last. Life is getting too tiresome for him now, he thinks and only craves today for a proper time to rest and for the motions of time to show over his body.

On that first time, they both stay at the shores of Avalon and leave the cold waters to cleanse over their boots in silence, pretending they only shiver out the frostiness and nothing more.

Arthur makes plans to return to Camelot on the forthcoming morning. He too is strangely tired to move anywhere farther than their shore for the day. Life and living are still too foreign for his mind. Merlin only sees him resting beside a log and closing his eyes tiredly. But he turns his eyes when the king falls asleep, the lack of motion resembles something else he does not want to name --something far too terminal for him to contemplate. They don't share a final conversation underneath the clear moonlight, so they never hear what the other is so eager to say and shout and let the world know. Merlin doesn't say how exhausted he is for being left behind. Arthur doesn't say how he never thought Merlin failed, not once nor ever.

On that next morning, Merlin wakes and he is alone again. He blames everything to a bad twisted trick of his mind and leaves to go back to his hut with sunken shoulders and the familiar press of another body during the night.

 

**Part Two: What keeps me afloat.**

The next time it happens, Merlin has seen another twenty years pass. He is no older than before but there is another king on the throne and the unfamiliar taste of not recognising the man that sits as his ruler makes everything more difficult to explain, once again. Luckily, Arthur still remembers their last moments but when he appears there, in the exact same spot and demands Merlin to go with him to Camelot to meet Guinevere’s daughter, a terrible weight falls over his head. So Merlin explains again. And so, the blink of an eye that Arthur thinks he felt brings them both down with the truth.

He doesn't know why this is happening, why Destiny is giving him brief flashes of what it could be to have Arthur back. Arthur doesn't know either and they try to not talk or think about it. They think how easy things could be if they just ignore it and therefore, it ceases to be there. Yet, when they sit on the tall grass the feeling of uncertainty still lingers.

Merlin can see how badly Arthur wants to speak, the way his fingers move over his lap and how his foot shakes next to his leg. He gives him a leave to ask because he realizes they never got a moment as such before, and he must have many questions. The one answer they might both be seeking is unknown to them --there is nothing to do about it.

That next time, Arthur asks about his magic. He remembers the flaming dragon, the strength of his arms when he tossed the bandits away to protect them and the warmness of feeling it surging around Merlin’s skin while he held him. But Arthur wants to know about those other times, the moments he had been too blind or too unconscious to notice the truth behind everything.

So Merlin tells him everything.

How when Gwen was accused of sorcery, he had been telling the truth. How many times the Great Dragon spoke with riddled advice, how many times he should have heard him, how many times he had been too naive to want to accept what he said. How many times he saved his life, over and over again. The time with the Sidhe --and Arthur still touches his head searching for a forgotten bruise. When Merlin drank the poison and made sure Arthur was safe while saving him --and Arthur blushes at the recollection of him defying his father in the search of a flower. How Lancelot had defeated the griffin with his help (Lancelot knew before me?!) How Will had given his life for his secret; how Merlin had gone to give his life for him; how when Arthur awoke healed Merlin was saying his goodbyes. How hurt he had felt when Arthur didn't trust him. How thankful he had felt when he saved him from Catrina, from Aredian. How he wished he could have told him the truth about Morgause --and Arthur pales thinking about Merlin saying those lies about magic and about himself for someone like Uther.

Merlin only comes to a halt when he reaches their search for the Dragonlord. He has to take a longer moment to think the words and when Arthur learns about Merlin’s father, he leans beside him and presses his hand over his shoulder with the tenderness he usually saved for his youngest knights. Merlin moves to reach the warmness of the other’s hand before thinking this was still another dream, perhaps. Then Merlin stops narrating and Arthur asks about his father, his mother and the life he had had in Ealdor. Hunith is long gone by now, yet he can’t refrain himself from speaking about her in present time.

The strangeness of time is still too new to face properly for Arthur and when he tells Merlin they should return to Ealdor and be with Hunith for a time to catch up, Merlin only nods and smiles and Arthur does too. He has great ideas for when he reaches Camelot over the next day and longs to see what has become of his kingdom. When Merlin suggests they go now -the sooner the better- Arthur says he’s still too tired and can’t move too much or walk too far now. He jokes telling Merlin he has returned from the dead, he understands time management differently now. We are both very old now Merlin, Arthur speaks stretching his still young and strong arms, we ought to take our time slowly now.

They both fall asleep right there. Arthur still craves for the right side and pushes Merlin aside as if they are still the young careless boys who went on patrols and got lost and fought bandits without thinking about the next day or the right path back home. Merlin remembers that night, Arthur’s breath next to him and the weighing of a smile appearing on his face. He remembers congratulating Destiny for giving him such a tender dream for once.

 

**Part Three: Lord take me away.**

The third time it happens Merlin doesn't talk at first. Arthur asks him why he doesn't move or say anything, why are they still there and had not go to Camelot like they had promised the night before? The night before was a flash of the moonlight for the blonde one, for Merlin it was twenty years ago. So Merlin doesn't speak, doesn't move, he only turns around and starts walking back to where he came from foolishly thinking that where he came from was home now.

Arthur calls for him, shouting his name and Merlin can hear the other’s pain, confusion. Arthur is disoriented, probably scared -more frightened than Merlin himself- but there's nothing for him to tell now. Some days Arthur’s there, some days he isn’t. Most of them he’s gone, a shadowy memory of the past but when he reappears, he’s as bright and present as ever. He can’t see him any more, not without knowing if he is ever going to stay. The lake is far gone when Arthur’s screams dry out from his reach and the silent woods filled his ears with the chirping of birds and the winds grazing the leaves. This is what he’s used to know now, the quietness of loneliness and if he ever decides to go back to Avalon, Arthur will be gone and things will be the same...

When Merlin returns, in haste with his back soaked in cold sweat, Arthur’s still there. His head is tightly pressed against his arms, his knees are raised up to his chest and he's leaning against an old tree and under its shadow; he looks so small, vulnerable and something else. Merlin sees him from afar: he takes in what he can tell from the tall grass, the dirty soil and the metal armour still adorning his body: a man left behind. He left him alone like the world did to him as well when he asked for Merlin to stay -to explain-, he understands it now. On that third time Merlin vows to never do it again and always be there for Arthur, for the small brief moments they can have. He goes and sits and Arthur cries and Merlin does too because they are lost, lonely and sometimes crying it’s the best thing to do when you don’t have anything else.

When Arthur can stop, he takes Merlin’s shoulder with his forehead and pressing his weight over the other’s body, doesn't make any jokes about being too old or about taking things slow. They don’t try to make the other smile like nothing has happened and Arthur doesn't mention his mother again. Instead, the king inquiries about the new world not bothering to phrase his own plans for the bright future ahead -it’s like a small part of his good spirits is gone by his side and Merlin wonders sadly if something new has die inside his friend today.

Tell me about the new world, Arthur requests and Merlin breathes in, not knowing where to start; he looks with uncertainty from time to time to the sun that still gleams above them and tells himself how pointless is to be calculating the hours of the day they have left.

He fails at it but doesn't share the thought with the other. Instead, he obliges the other's will.

The world is strangely different now, he speaks, but it still has the same aspects that makes it what it was: people being bad, people being good, magical things happening when people loses hope in the world, magic failing when people needs it the most. He wants to cast a wonderful picture for Arthur to know this but he doesn't know in which points is sensible to lie and in which moments he ought to speak with honesty. He mixes things until not even him can’t truly tell apart facts from fiction but from the sad -yet comfortable- smile Arthur offers him, he tells himself is not that important to know the truth at this moment. No when the sun is still shining like the day could have no end.

Merlin fights through the night, struggling and forcing himself to keep both eyes open. He wants to see the exact second when Arthur vanishes from his side. It is only a moment, a single second but when he opens them back he sees he’s alone and a new day has dawned. Yet, it doesn't feel as excruciatingly painful as before. Perhaps it’s because now he knows how easily it is for Arthur to be there and away in one blinking second or perhaps, it’s because the traces of the other’s tears are still visible in his right shoulder over the fabric of his raggedy jacket and the certainty he did not imagine it, beats any other malcontent emotions.

 

**Part Four: The land that I knew it’s a dream.**

When another thirty years pass, Merlin is there and waiting for him. The clench and sting in his chest still linger but the heaviness of it all is not quite the same, yet his breath still gets slightly caught while exiting his nostrils as Arthur walks in front of him with a beaming smile. Somehow things fall into a normality too bizarre to explain properly and the need to rephrase every last situation is no longer present; it’s as if they have both come to terms with the frailty of their reunions and have decided how pointless it truly is to waste time complaining or searching for an answer that will only prove to be futile and never quite satisfying for them. And also this time is different because Merlin has come prepared.

When he opens his rucksack and Arthur tries to take a look over his shoulder like a curious and eager young boy, Merlin smiles and displays a large parchment he had rolled a cold morning four years ago when he had thought that that was the day he would have Arthur back; his calculations had faltered for some years but thanks to his magic and amazing treatment skills for sensitive pieces of history, the contents of the paper were still intact. Arthur’s blue eyes go wide and large when Merlin opens it and reveals a detailed drawing of Camelot with a flattering view of its palace, the main towers and even a small hint of what seems to be the entrance to the main market. He tells him it was within Gaius’s old possessions that he had retrieved with time and doesn't comment on all the struggling hours he had endured trying to get every single detail just the right level of accurate; he can see a small shred of doubt dancing around Arthur’s frown but it’s only instantaneous and his eyes soon return to the picture. With a proper lighting they can both tell is not the same Camelot they left behind decades ago and even when the walls are the same and the main gate of entrance still proudly stands in front of everything, the lingering sensation that this is not their kingdom prevails in the air for the initial seconds of the revelation.

Arthur goes on a rampage of plans and blabbering he might never fulfil in real time. How he had had plans of expanding the castle and main building of the palace so when the city came to be under a terrible siege, he could harbour more of his people inside the secured walls. Merlin looks at him go about where to put the new armoury, where to expand the new markets to meet other traders from the distant kingdoms and isles, with his strong arms moving widely over the opened sky as if he is standing in front of a painting of his plans. Arthur’s rapid speech only comes to a sudden end when he mentions the construction of a new tower and Merlin’s eyebrow shoots highly at the shock: a new tower he had thought of to offer more amenities to the kingdom’s new appointed court sorcerer. Now Arthur looks at him unsure and asks him how that could only happen if he wished to stay in Camelot and take over the new title.

There are truly no words to describe the way Merlin’s heart melts on that moment but neither there isn’t many words to speak on how newly strange it is to hug Arthur knowing no one else will see them yet it is dangerously addictive the sensation on how righteous this can come to be with the right times to practice over and over again.

There’s no one to impress, no one to shock and certainly no one to judge the servant hugging the king, the warlock embracing the Pendragon man. It’s a hug of their own and when Arthur clenches its arms around Merlin’s waist, perhaps too tenderly for the other’s taste -he tells himself it only is this way because maybe Arthur has forgotten how to properly hug or maybe, he’s unsure if his grip could hurt Merlin’s lanky body- but he will never complain about it out loud.

The hug breaks off and when they are left standing in front of the other with a new found light in their gazes, they both decide it’s the perfect time to eat. Merlin is suddenly almost famished and Arthur has found a new deep interest on the colourfulness of the bright sky. When Arthur passes him over the bottle of wild berries Merlin had made all by himself with time, he convinces himself Arthur’s rosy cheeks are a result of the strong taste of the drink and nothing more. And for the very first time, Merlin gets the chance to say a proper farewell to Arthur before falling asleep side by side once more.

 

**Part Five: The water sustains me.**

Forty years pass and Arthur doesn't greet him when they meet again. Instead he asks him, with a visible rush and excitement, about their destiny. Merlin is almost taken aback by the sudden interest the other shows and doesn't know where to begin speaking. It is not only Arthur being interested on their shared destiny but it’s also a questioning of the term itself: what is Destiny and who on earth decides it because he feels like having a couple of words with whatever entity is in charge of it.

There really isn’t that much he can say on the subject because even with his free time, the idle hours he has spent reading and investigating about his magic and his powers and even, his conversations with Kilgharrah before the old dragon left forever, he doesn't have much. More like a scrap of a vague idea. He feels sometimes it's easier to not know the truth or to leave some pieces of the entirety of his life hidden from sight. He feels it's healthier this way, to retain in a selfish manner some sense of his sanity intact while he waits and waits. But he also realizes that faking disinterest about it, is not fair for Arthur.

And Arthur insists so badly and looks at him so tenderly that Merlin can’t help himself from offering some light consolation. He tells him everything he knows but in the end, it’s mostly a big lecture about the Great Dragon. Once Arthur can overpass the fact that not only he didn't kill it and that the creature actually helped Merlin with its advice on a few occasions, he asks to meet him. As king of Albion, he claims proudly, it’s his duty to be acquainted with every magical creature no matter how obnoxious or enigmatic or even confusing it might sound by his tales.

Kilgharrah is gone, Merlin tells him. Just like everybody else he refrains himself from adding but from the misty eyes Arthur shows him, he knows the other listened what he didn't say. He was already very old, Merlin continues, by the time you were gone he didn't have much time left but he stayed by my side for as long as it could. Arthur nods solemnly as if with his silence he is honouring the memory of a large beast that attacked his kingdom, killed his knights and became an undying nightmare of his younger years... just for the sake of what it meant for Merlin. He manages to smile with the thought of this tenderness.

Arthur leans to the tree behind them and flexes his arms behind his head, lazily and kingly and sighs with a strange smile. For a moment, Merlin can’t help feeling guilty for ruining the other’s new found bliss, but he had made the vow to never lie to his king ever again, and specially to never lie to him regarding his magic. To keep it as a secret would simply be unjust for them. He feels the need to rebuild their trust and the sensation only increases when he quickly remembers how brief it's the time they have together and how he can't know when the next time will be for them to reunite and discuss something as vital for him as his magic is. Or if ever they are going to have another time at all.

So Merlin calls it, or _her._

When Aithusa flies to their side, Arthur reaches for the sword he no longer holds in his belt. To see the fear in the other’s eyes and the surprise of actually being standing in front of a dragon it’s almost greater than the pity he can feel for actually causing such distress to the other prat. Then he makes the proper introductions and Arthur notices with a certain reluctance how the little dragon resembles more to a small deer than an actual beast -it's not frightening and when Aithusa comes closer to snuggle its frail nose under Arthur’s hand, he can see the other’s heart melting from the sweetness of it all. So now Arthur can proclaim dragons are adorable and the world needs more of them at once.

When the night comes they make a small warm bundle between the three. Aithusa is sleeping quietly in between their bellies and Merlin moves his legs unconsciously towards Arthur’s. When their feet tangle one another and Arthur moves forward to place his head over Merlin’s shoulder while one of his free hands caresses Aithusa’s nape, he truly can’t bring himself to think of a better way to wait and see what Destiny has for the two of them.

 

**Part Six: The water can’t drown me.**

The sixth time it happens Merlin is late and Arthur’s pained face it’s enough reminder for Merlin to feel extremely guilty. He apologizes profusely and for a moment, Arthur keeps the charade of how his honour was tainted by having to wait for his servant (No longer your servant, Merlin remembers him; quiet, Merlin! Arthur answers) giving him his back and walking to the shores of the lake. He wonders if the other is considering the option of going back to the water as an act of defiance but he doesn't move any farther -he’s going to ask Arthur about it mockingly when he notices the way his shoulders fall and how his feet move idly with the mud beneath his soles. _I thought you weren't coming_ , Arthur whispers and Merlin knows is not something that’s meant to be heard loudly but instead it’s a confession just for him. Knowing Arthur they way he does, he knows it cannot be easy for him to say it out loud.

Merlin explains how he was busy with a pressing matter (More important than me? Arthur asks horrified) and how he just doesn't know which days he might be there and which he won’t. It’s like walking on a thin line above ground with no certainty he might find a steady ground at the end of the path; it’s a game of guesses and hunches and sometimes, there are developments he can’t foresee. Tell me about them, Arthur demands, is there a beast? Impending war coming to the kingdom? A plague? He asks visibly scared.

A cold, Merlin replies amused. After all he had all the knowledge Gaius had left him with and more spare time he could account for; might as well do something useful with it, he says.

So you are a physician now? -- What were you expecting for me to do? -- I assumed you made a living with your magic -- Sorcery is not a paid position -- So you ask for money in return? That’s not very noble of you -- I don’t ask that sort of payment for my services -- Then what do you demand? -- Peace and tranquillity. People don’t disturb me unless there’s some big emergency they can’t deal with it -- And this cold was a big emergency? -- She was a poor baby Arthur, I couldn’t just say no -- You always had a heart too big Merlin -- Just as big as your ego -- What? – What?

Arthur frowns smiling at his honesty and asks more about the dreadful cold that dared to keep him busy while he did nothing alone there. When there isn’t much to tell, Arthur dares himself to be more privy and asks him to explain, with the exact words and motions how he cures a cold with magic. When he says "a simple spell and a lotion for the future days" the other looks abashed and slightly disappointed. (Where you expecting big pyres and sacrifices, sire? Merlin asks but Arthur only hits him in the shoulder for it).

I suppose the world truly has changed while I’ve been gone. Arthur’s tone is blue with sadness at its best; Merlin feels tempted to step forward and clinch an arm around his chest, to hold him there and make him feel not only necessary but also vital for him. He tells him how perhaps the world has changed, how there are new inventions every day than not even Merlin himself can keep track of and these are the changing winds everyone must face eventually. But he also tells him, while standing respectfully next to his king, how the words have not faltered in their meaning. When Albion’s need is greatest, he _will_ rise again -it’s just a matter of the when, nothing more.

When did you become so wise Merlin? -- I have had lots of time to read books now -- The gods help us, I didn't know you had it in you -- I’ve always been this wise. You just never noticed it before -- Must have been too busy to not notice things that weren't there -- Must have been too busy to notice something besides your ego -- What? -- Nothing.

Later, when they are lying staring at the starry sky, Arthur takes Merlin’s hand with his own and stares at it quietly. He touches the other’s fingers and moves his palm across his own, almost as a reverence that makes Merlin’s cheeks flush with surprise and nervousness for the softness of skin against skin. You have healing and magical hands now, Arthur whispers against his knuckles softly. Merlin shivers for the sudden intimacy and knows that Arthur has noticed but they say nothing more and fall asleep with their breathings moving evenly, chest to chest.

 

**Part Seven: The journeyman’s tale.**

The next time it happens, Merlin has been dangerously too close to forget the touch of Arthur’s lips over his hand. It has been the longest period they have been apart but he finds some small comfort knowing the separation surely passed almost unnoticed for Arthur. To know the other has not suffered like him from their years, decades, almost a century without meeting it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded by now.

The world is also so much different from what he had known. He used to be afraid at the thought of leaving his hut at first. Now he has almost conquered it, has more experience and has seen things he could only dream of before. Humanity is so preciously inventive and he means to tell Arthur all about it once they meet again. But the next time takes so long to happen he starts for the very first time to question and doubt if there’s ever going to be a next time at all.

Merlin has made the habit of carrying a small enchanted backpack where he can keep all his memories and all the inventions that had drawn him with time so he can be fully prepared to show them to Arthur. He is particularly fond of the typing machine, not matter how heavy it can get and has written story after story about his adventures alongside Arthur. He now knows those sort of tales can qualify as “children stories” and they are very popular with the public these days but he’s not sure if he’s ready to let the world know about them.

Sometimes he plays with the thought of becoming a famous author like most of his heroes and the people he has met through time -the pictures of his past friends, a enchanting woman who loved to write love stories and an enraptured man who drank and ate more coffee than anyone he has ever met before come to his mind. When he remembers these faces, he searches for the first editions he keeps like treasures and also the small coffee maker he had bought over the Venice border years ago.

When finally he sees Arthur, right where he left him the last time, he knows he doesn't look the same as the other does. Arthur still keeps his same young and sculpted face, the gleam of his eyes has not changed and it pains Merlin to meet him back for he knows how different he is. Not only physically but also, he can tell he’s a different man. Although the passing of time can’t never truly be seen in his features, there must be some sort of weightiness over his body and another air in the way he conducts himself. Perhaps he has already picked up too many quirks and details from his stays over the courts of the entire continent; perhaps because he truly feels for the first time he has done something meaningful with his time. Perhaps because he feels he has not honoured Arthur properly by waiting quietly for his return.

You look different, Arthur tells him and there isn’t a trace of recrimination in his voice for which Merlin sighs thankful although the guilt doesn't squirm away so easily. He decides to change quickly the topic and starts showing him all the contents of his bag, one at a time to not overwhelm Arthur with the novelty of everything.

The king can tell there has been a shift in their dynamics but keeps himself silent when he tries to read the books Merlin shows him; even their own language has changed with time and he promises him he will teach him this new way of writing and speaking eventually. There’s a lingering sadness in Arthur's eyes when he smiles approvingly of the idea which Merlin decides to put aside. When Arthur almost breaks his coffee maker and decides, after spitting the beans away with disgust, that coffee is a terrible concoction and whoever decides willingly to drink it for amusement is insane, Merlin runs out of topics.

He doesn't know if the rest of the objects might be of some use now and a little piece of his heart dies when Arthur claims Keats’ poetry is unreadable. Merlin starts to pick everything back inside, mumbling some sort of apology about not bringing Arthur anything truly interesting when the other takes his face with his hands and stares fiercely at his eyes. There were some prickling tears threatening to appear over the corners of his eyes and Arthur takes them with his fingers before they can be freed. I’m glad you’ve seen the world Merlin, Arthur says firmly in front of him, their faces almost inches apart from the other. And I’m sure we will see it together when the time comes.

Merlin nods sadly and shakes his head, trying to rest some importance off the tears he had almost shown. He didn't notice when the moon set itself so high over their heads but when Arthur presses his mouth, like the soft touch of a rose petal over his lips and he instinctively closes his eyes, there’s a gleaming sensation of peace in the world. As if all this time there has been a part missing. He realizes now that even when he had bought and bought new items through his travels he always felt some part not present. With Arthur’s kiss, he feels everything falling back to a new normal of strange blooming emotions.

He opens his eyes and Arthur’s gone. His body is almost too numb to respond when he reaches over to touch his lips, still shyly wet from Arthur. Merlin picks up his bag and leaves, visualising a new long trip ahead of him for the time that is necessary.

 

**Part Eight: Where the Blue of the Sea.**

The last time it happens, Merlin doesn't know it’s the last one. The world where he had been born is nothing but a faint memory of history and his tales are stories of magic and imagination and fiction. The people that know his name and Arthur’s, and the knights, Guinevere and even Morgana are not those he had expected. Not the common crowd but an elite of old wrinkled creatures  calling themselves scholars and acting like Merlin’s actions defying nature and letting magic be something beautiful in this world are details of fantasy unworthy to be taken seriously. He likes reading their serious and boring books while preparing a cup of tea without having to use his own hands. It lifts his spirits in a strange sort of way and he always smiles widely when he opens his door on this Halloween-thing and finds a small child wearing a pointy hat or a little girl dressed like a princess. At first he had felt inclined to let girls know they could be sorceresses as well, and ask the boys dressed like knights where there were their partners but he learned harshly how parents don’t like strange old men talking to their children in the night while giving them candy. It was a funny odd world indeed.

But he always made sure to drop off the façade when he went to visit Avalon and search for a sign of Arthur's. After all, Arthur wasn't expecting an old man in front of him, even when he always managed to recognise him through his eyes no matter what disguise he chooses from. He went many times and Arthur was not ever there, yet he kept on going; his vows were too powerful and he long to meet Arthur’s eyes again, not just for the sake of their destiny but because he also needed to know. He has to know what the kiss had meant (and if they were going to be more in the foreseeable future).

So when he returns and finds Arthur standing there with a shocked expression on his face, Merlin remembers too late how he had dressed for the meeting. Surely the sight of skinny jeans, a long jacket and a baggy knitted hat over his head is an image to be amazed by. Contrasted against Arthur’s spotless armour, they truly make an odd couple while standing next to one another. He tries to shrug off the look of Arthur’s discomfort with an easy smile but it doesn't work, at all. Arthur asks him what has happened and Merlin can’t think of a better answer than “time”.

For how long, Arthur asks him appalled. Almost five hundred years Merlin says and Arthur has to seat down on the floor, covering his head and placing it between his raised his legs; it’s like going back to the start, with their first meeting and it’s painful to witness. He leans forward to pat him in the back but he realizes before he can’t even touch him that that cannot be enough, not after everything that has happened. So Merlin sits next to him and placing his arms embracing the other by the shoulder, pulls him to his side and coos him over his lap like he has seen many times mothers doing with their crying children. He knows very well Arthur is no child but the effect is almost the same: Arthur calms himself enough to glare at Merlin and touch the fabric of his trousers. Denim, Merlin says as if that explained everything; it seems to work because Arthur wipes clean his face and sits properly by his side.

Don’t you dare to apologise for it -- I just never guessed it had been so much -- I don’t care -- But it’s not fair to you -- Arthur, I could wait an entire millennium for you and if it’s necessary I will.

Arthur smiles at his words and takes his hand with his, leaving Merlin almost too short of breath to reply properly but fortunately there’s still some functioning nerve inside his brain and he moves forward. He lets his nose to caress softly around Arthur’s warm cheek, trying to remember the other’s smell not knowing as always when his next opportunity will be. Arthur lets him do it quietly while holding a steady grip of his hand like he did with his sword before; Merlin can know now he is Arthur’s and Arthur is his as well and that will never change. It doesn't matter now what future awaits for them or what Destiny has in store for the two or whether they will face it together or apart for their hearts are bound to one another now and forever. Merlin knows this has always been the case but it’s only now he allows himself to see it so clearly.

The kiss is just like the past one, shy and with a none existent touch of desire passing through their lips. They lie down, back to back on the ground as they watch the sun turn into moon and the clearness darken into a starry and beautiful night. Merlin doesn’t want to close his eyes, he can’t bring himself to accept the dream will be over as soon as he does it but he has no choice. Sleep falls heavy yet sweetly over his head and he allows himself to dream of a bright future with Arthur by his side with the other’s hand tightly pressed against his own.

When he wakes there’s a strange weight pressing his chest and he doesn’t recognize the bed -or more like, the lack of one- beneath him. Soon he notices he’s not in his modern and comfortable London flat and the pressure over his ribs is not a variation of the air but instead, someone else. The blonde head snuggled right under his chin almost causes him a heart attack, a stroke and many other fatal illnesses. _Arthur?_ He whispers tentatively afraid of bursting whatever wonderful bubble of madness he has fallen into. There’s an indecipherable mumble coming from where the spectre’s mouth should be and he gives himself a couple of second to wake fully. The minute he will open his eyes, he’ll be alone... like he always is after Arthur has been with him. But he opens them and Arthur is still there, dreaming of something Merlin can’t know.

 _Arthur?_ Merlin asks more loudly and shaking the head at the same time. A startling noise and a high jump and Arthur is awake, standing in front of Merlin and staring with crazy eyes back to where he is still in the ground. They both ask each other if they are actually real and even come to touch the other’s faces to prove it better. But the faces are theirs and therefore, they are there in that second. Arthur didn’t left and Merlin is speechless.

What now? -- I think I need a shower and a drink -- I didn't think you were a drinker Merlin -- I’m sure I can make an understandable exception today -- I second that -- Arthur? -- Merlin? -- Is this real? -- Let’s see if I’m still here next morning and we'll know -- Sounds like a plan... a terrible one but a plan still -- My plans always work out -- That’s because I was always there to fix everything with my magic -- And why you think I keep you around then? -- Prat -- Idiot.

 

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)


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